The Rise of the Fairy Courts
by ITookTheOneLessTravelledBy
Summary: Stiles Stilinski wanted a moment of peace. Unfortunately, he never got it. Three dead bodies in the past two weeks. All paranormal. With no clues, the pack flounders for answers. When Ellie Thistle appears, new mysteries arise. Together, Stiles and Ellie may help the pack survive yet another supernatural invasion. Alone, it could lead to everyone's ruin. StilesXOC pro season 4
1. Chapter 1: The Agents

Chapter 1

Stiles Stilinski slammed his locker shut and closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. One moment. That's all he wanted. One moment where people weren't dying, where blood didn't leave a trail for him to follow, where paranormal creatures didn't lie in wait to attack his pack, and where innocent humans didn't get killed in the crossfires.

One. Moment.

"Stiles?" Scott asked nervously. _Moment over._ Stiles' eyes snapped open. He ran a hand through his bangs and pushed away from the lockers.

"Yeah, I'm listening."

"Are you sure?" Scott's brow furrowed as he closed his own locker far more gently. "You seem…out of it."

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. It has nothing to do with the fact that yet more bodies are showing up, and they all seem to be paranormal," Stiles replied sarcastically. Scott's lips twitched.

"Noted." Silence stretched out between them, and for a moment, the only sound was the slamming of other lockers as the students milled around them between classes. Stiles shifted and let the silence last. What else was there to say? Three bodies had shown up in the last two weeks. Two werewolves, one werecoyote. The entire pack was on edge – especially Lydia – and hardly anyone was sleeping.

Worse than that, they had absolutely zero lead to go on.

Whoever was doing these killings did _not_ want to be found.

When the silence became uncomfortable, Stiles turned to walk to class and skidded to a halt. His sneakers squeaked against the tiles as his arms flailed. Scott caught his arm to steady him.

A tiny waif of a girl stood before him with chestnut curls and big, hazel eyes; round and green, pinning him to the spot with flecks of gold. It reminded him of a forest in spring, for some strange reason. The lush forests and firm bark.

He hadn't even heard her approach.

Stiles' instinctively noticed as many details of the girl as possible, a handy little habit he picked up while surviving the paranormal by the skin of his back.

The top of the girls' head barely reached his chest, even though she wore brown boots with a slight heel. She wore metallic blue leggings and a baggy, red floral shirt – roses? Maybe? Stiles didn't know flowers – that hung from one shoulder. It revealed the graceful curve of her neck and an appetizing glimpse of a slim collarbone. Stiles cleared his throat.

A bright green amulet, in the shape of a glass leaf, hung around her neck.

"Hi." The girl's thin lips turned up in a bright smile. Stiles blinked.

"Um…hi?"

"You're Stiles," she said. Stiles' mouth popped open, but no words came out. He was used to awkward, but this was on a whole new level. Who just walked up to a stranger out of the blue and called them by _name_? Suspicion instantly took root in Stiles. _How does she know me?_ The rational part rebuked him. _Relax. You go to school together._ Stiles snorted. _When has_ that _ever made a difference?_

"Why yes, yes I am?" he replied uncertainly. Her grin grew.

"I wanted to introduce myself." Another blink.

"…okay?"

"Bye."

"By- wait _what?_ " Without another word, the girl whirled on her heel – kind of like a dancer – and sauntered away. Stiles stared after the girl with slits for eyes as Scott stepped forward, following her retreat with his gaze.

"She smells _amazing,"_ Scott gasped.

"She does?" Stiles frowned and turned to his best friend, pushing the strange girl from his mind.

"Yeah." Scott turned to him with a frown. "Couldn't you smell it?"

"No, pretty sure I still have a perfectly human nose." Stiles tapped his nose sarcastically for emphasis. "What did she smell like?"

"Like…spring," Scott replied slowly, clearly struggling for the right words. "No, more like…blooming flowers?"

"Reall-"

" _Stiles Stilinski, report to the guidance counselor's office."_ The announcement crackled overhead on the loudspeakers, and silence instantly descended over the hallway. " _Stiles Stilinski_ , _please report to the guidance counselor's office."_ Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and blew out a long breath.

"What did you do?" Scott muttered.

"I have no idea. What _don't_ I do?" Apparently suspicious spring girl would have to wait.

 _I definitely didn't do anything to deserve_ this. Stiles stood outside the guidance counselor's office and peered through the blinds. A pair of agents – they had to be, with those black suits and sunglasses – stood with their hands clasped at their waists by the guidance counselor, who spoke with flustered hand gestures. Stiles fiddled with the straps of his backpack and thought about his next move. Step inside and talk with them? Run? If he ran, they would probably just call his dad, and then his _dad_ would be in trouble.

No, he had to walk in there, head held high, and face whatever was in store for him.

Stiles drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and reached for the handle.

"If you don't like what they say," a small voice said at his elbow, "you don't have to listen." Stiles' fingers slipped on the doorknob as he spun, eyes wide. The same girl from a few minutes before stood gazing up at him, her head lilted slightly at an angle.

"Stop doing that! Where did you _come_ from?" he demanded.

"I've been here the whole time," she protested lightly, hugging a textbook to her chest. "You just didn't notice." Stiles frowned.

"I'm pretty sure I would've noticed you," he replied diffidently. Her eyelashes fluttered, and Stiles blanched, his stomach somersaulting nervously. "That is, you know, not because you're a girl and I noticed you like that – I mean, obviously you're a girl, I just meant, you know…you're standing here…what _are_ you doing here?" he finished lamely.

"Waiting for the guidance counselor," she replied innocently. A blush rose to Stiles' cheeks.

"Right," he stammered. "That…makes sense." Her lips cricked into a lopsided grin.

"I think so."

"Mister Stilinski?" The door swung open to reveal a wide-eyed guidance counselor and the pair of agents. Stiles' swallowed nervously when he noticed the transparent wires connected to their earpieces. _Definitely agents._ "Come in, Mr. Stilinski." The guidance counselor practically rushed him forward, clearly baffled by the reason for his summons as well.

The girl grabbed his arm and dragged him to a halt before he could step inside.

"Don't forget what I said," she whispered, her bright eyes keen. " **If you don't like what they say, don't listen.** " Her voice took on a singsong quality, and Stiles blinked at the sugary sweet words, smooth and warm as honey. It made his head spin. Then the girl released him and waited, leaning back against the wall by the guidance counselor's office. He stumbled into the office behind the guidance counselor with a frown, but before he could question the girl the door slammed shut, trapping him inside with the guidance counselor and the agents.

"I'll just be in the other room," the guidance counselor blathered nervously, wringing her hands at her waist. "Call if you need me." She slipped away to the front office. _Scratch that. Trapping me in here with two agents and no one else._ Stiles shifted nervously and flipped the straps of his backpack across his stomach. He tried to study the agents inconspicuously, but it proved rather difficult since the agents were studying _him_ with open intensity.

The man on the right stood at least six feet tall with black hair and a silly looking moustache, thin as a pencil and curled at the edges. The other stood a few inches shorter, with stylish blonde hair and a killer beard.

"Stiles Stilinski?" the agent with the blonde hair asked.

"The one and only," Stiles replied, hating the way his voice cracked slightly.

"We need to see I.D." Blinking, Stiles slung his backpack over one shoulder and dug around for his wallet.

"What's this about?" he asked doubtfully while he searched. Neither agent moved or spoke, standing with their feet shoulder length apart and their hands folded at this waist. If Stiles didn't know any better, he would say they looked ready for a fight. "That bad, huh?" Nothing. "Or am I finally receiving a medal of honor for all the good I do for this town?" he muttered.

"Something like that." Stiles froze, fingers curled around his brown leather wallet, and glanced up at the dark haired agent.

"Come again?" Rather than reply, the man held out his palm expectantly. Slipping open the wallet, Stiles pulled out his driver's license and smacked it into the agent's hand. The man's head tilted down, and Stiles assumed he was verifying the information – he couldn't see behind the thick sunglasses – before the agent looked back up at him. Stiles tucked the wallet into his back pocket and waited tensely.

"Stiles Stilinski," the blonde agent began without introduction. "It has come to our attention that you have been instrumental in solving more than a few unexplained cases in the Beacon Hills County." Stiles tried to keep his mouth from dropping open, and failed.

"You don't say..."

"As such," the dark haired man continued, "we are considering offering you an internship with the CIA." The floor fell out from beneath Stiles. "You _are_ familiar with the CIA?"

"Of course I am," Stiles returned sharply, falling back on his sarcasm to replace his shock. "I happen to be a human being living in the United States, so yes, I am." The agents shared a look.

"The internship would take place over the summer," the blonde haired agent continued. "You would report to a confidential CIA facility as an intern and work there full-time. Should you prove yourself, we would consider offering you a scholarship to college contingent upon three years of service to the CIA after you graduate." The words and numbers flashed through Stiles' head. He felt rooted to the spot, heavy and light all at once, his head floating somewhere near the ceiling while his stomach sank to the floor.

 _Is this really happening?_ Stiles' grip tightened around the single strap of his backpack still hanging over one shoulder. _After everything that's happened…is something good_ finally _happening?_ Stiles snapped out of his reverie with a shake of his head. _It's_ too _good._

"What would I have to do?" he asked suspiciously. The agents shared a look again. Stiles sighed in exasperation. "Clearly, you have something secret or important you need to share, no need to keep giving each other _the look_." Neither one of the agents cracked so much as a half smile. _Crap._

"To start," the dark haired agent continued, "we need your help on a current case."

"There have been three deaths in Beacon Hills in the past two weeks," the blonde haired agent said, nearly mirroring Stiles' earlier thoughts. "Given the…nature of the homicides, we believe your eyes and ears would be useful in this case." _Nature._ What did that mean? Did the agents – or rather, the CIA _know_ about the supernatural? Were they part of a supernatural taskforce? Were they scouting _him_ to be part of the supernatural taskforce? Stiles didn't know whether to be flattered or to run away screaming. Being paid to do what he did with Scott every single day…it was both a blessing and a curse.

"What homicides?" Stiles asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know the homicides," the blonde haired agent surprised him by saying. "We know you've hacked into the local sheriff's department radio frequency and listen to all the reports." Stiles' mouth became suddenly dry. Two CIA agents just openly admitted to knowing he committed something akin to a felony, and they were _still_ offering him an internship. Something wasn't right. Unless they were trying to blackmail him, or use that knowledge as leverage, to get him to do what they wanted.

"Let's _pretend_ that I do," Stiles repeated, careful not to fully confess. "What can I do that you can't?"

"You can get us someone on the inside," the blonde haired agent responded tonelessly.

"This particular case would be too much for an… _ordinary_ human to handle," the black haired agent added. "We need someone _extraordinary._ " _Scott._ Stiles almost spit out the name of his best friend, _almost_ gave the agents exactly what they were looking for. He caught himself at the last second and bit down harshly on his lower lip.

The next thought struck him like a bolt of lightning, making every muscle in his body tense and lock up. _They know._ Stiles' heart pounded painfully against his ribcage. He didn't know _how_ they knew, but all of his instincts were screaming at him to stay quiet, to not say a word, and to get out of there as fast as humanly possible. _They know about Scott, and they know about the others._

He remained silent.

"If you help us with this," the black haired agent coaxed, taking a step closer to Stiles that made him instantly step back. "We can guarantee you the internship." Stiles continued to edge closer towards the door without turning his back to the agents. "We know you could use the money, Mr. Stilinski." Stiles' back stiffened.

"Think of how proud your father would be," the blonde haired agent added without moving an inch. "The sheriff's son becomes a CIA agent. And he wouldn't have to worry about figuring out how to pay for your college." The words stabbed Stiles in the heart, and for a moment, for a miserable, weak willed moment, he hesitated. He debated the harm it would be to agree to their demands, and figure out a way to get them what they wanted without revealing the identities of his friends. He hesitated, and in that moment of hesitation, the agents saw everything they needed to see.

"Did we mention the scholarship to college is a full-ride?" the dark haired agent added. "To any local university. You wouldn't even have to leave home. You could help out your father, and achieve your dreams all at once." Stiles hated how perfect it sounded. He hated it because he knew the better it sounded the less real it became. The agents wanted something from him, and it didn't matter what _he_ wanted; they planned to get it, one way or the other.

The warning bell rang, harsh and grating, through the room. Stiles winced and stepped further towards the door.

"Well, that's the warning bell, so, I really should go," Stiles fumbled. "If I have any shot at university I need to graduate first, so, if there's nothing else, or if you have a card, I could drop a line-" The dark haired agent rifled in his jacket pocket and pulled out a plain white index card, handing it to him. Stiles accepted the card with a blink. He hadn't actually thought the agent would have a card to _give_.

"Thanks." Stiles stuffed the card into his pocket alongside his wallet and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "If there's nothing else…?" The agents shared another look – seriously, how cliché could they get? – and stepped forward simultaneously. Stiles flew away from them, his black slamming into the door. He had nowhere to go. His heart rattled uncertainly. He needed to run, needed to _escape._ His fingers fumbled for the doorknob.

" **Stiles Stilinski** ," the dark haired agent began, and the room swam around Stiles. Stiles gasped, his fingers clenching convulsively around the handle. The man's words had the same honey sweetness as the girl's from the hallway, but it felt…different. Sweet fruit with the sour, pungent flavor that bordered on rotten.

" **You will tell us** …" The agent's lips continued moving, but Stiles heard only a faint buzz, as if an annoying fly had been trapped in the back of his mind. Stiles blinked and rubbed his ear with his shoulder. The agent stopped speaking and waited expectantly. Stiles blinked.

"What?" The agent's eyebrows twitched.

"I said, **you will tell us** …" Once again, the agent's lips mouthed the words, but Stiles heard nothing but an incoherent hum. The agent stopped again, and Stiles felt the man's gaze boring into him despite the sunglasses.

"I can't hear-" The late bell pealed through the room, ringing painfully loud in Stiles' ears. He winced. "As pleasantly strange as this has been, I'm going to leave now, but I'll be sure to give you a call." Stiles twisted the doorknob and the door swung open, spilling him out into the hallway.

The agents shared yet _another_ glance.

"Seelie," was the last thing Stiles heard before he booked it to chemistry.


	2. Chapter 2: Ellie

Chapter 2

Later that evening, Stiles drove Scott and Liam in his trusty blue jeep to Scott's house to meet with Lydia, Malia, and Kira. The pack had agreed to gather that evening to discuss the homicides, and plan their next move. For the entire drive, Stiles debated whether or not to tell Scott about his strange encounter with the CIA agents. In the end, Stiles decided that Scott had enough on his plate – with two of the dead being werewolves, Scott had a ridiculous sense of obligation towards them and felt their deaths personally, which meant Stiles was now personally invested as his best friend – and resolved to handle it himself.

If the agents showed up again, and threatened him, then Stiles would take action.

When they arrived, Stiles killed the engine, and the boys piled out of the jeep. Stiles slammed his own door shut and locked the doors, following Scott and Liam to the front porch.

"Have you heard anything on the police scanner, Stiles?" Scott asked as he pulled a key from his backpack and unlocked the front door.

"No," Stiles said at the same moment Lydia's Volvo pulled up with the girls. The door unlocked, Scott turned and a smile softened his face. Stiles knew that look. Stepping past his best friend, Stiles clapped him on the shoulder and practically shoved him towards Kira.

"Well I think," Liam began, completely ignorant of the way Scott could see nothing but his kitsune girlfriend. Stiles grabbed the sleeve of Liam's shirt and dragged him inside the house, cutting him off. "Hey!" Liam said indignantly as he stumbled through the front door. "What's your problem?"

"Read the room a little," Stiles grumbled and strode into the kitchen, slinging his backpack onto the table. It took Liam a moment to understand, but when he did, a sheepish expression crossed his face.

"Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_." Stiles rummaged through the cupboards for some food. He was starving. A few seconds later, Lydia and Malia appeared. Stiles paused for a moment and admired Lydia's outfit. Even after all this time, he couldn't get over those perfect auburn waves. Especially in the cute sundress she wore and those brown shoes, a belt cinched around that perfect little waist. He and Malia shared a friendly look - exes past the awkward phase of jealousy or regret - before Malia took a seat next to Liam.

"Kira and Scott will be here in a minute," Lydia said pointedly. Liam snickered and slid into a seat at the table. "So. What is our plan?" Lydia thrust one hip to the side in a way that said _she was in charge_ and crossed her arms over her stomach.

"Well, we were kind of hoping you knew," Stiles said with a vague gesture. "Being the banshee and all. Can't you just tell us who will die next?"

"I don't know how many times we've been over this, Stiles," Lydia responded in exasperation. "It doesn't work like that."

"So, should we…play music or something?" Liam asked, palms splayed on the table. "You know…give you something to _listen_ to?" Stiles and Lydia both gave him a look. "Fine," he mumbled and gazed down at his hands. "Just trying to help."

"Maybe if we," Lydia began, but she didn't get much further. At that moment, Scott and Kira stepped inside, hand in hand, and they weren't alone. Stiles turned, his arms full of contents to make a sandwich, and froze. The girl, the one with the chestnut curls and the eyes like springtime, stood behind Scott and Kira, lingering in the doorway. She looked awkward and uncomfortable, completely different from the confident, cheerful girl from earlier.

Lydia turned and went rigid, hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Um…sorry for the intrusion," the girl said and lowered her eyes to the floor, tucking a chestnut curl behind one ear. "I just-"

"What are you doing here?" Stiles demanded. Belatedly, he recalled the girl's presence before the agents practically threatened him to help them. _Is she working with them?_ Stiles didn't trust her. Her appearance and the arrival of the agents were too close together. It was too coincidental, and Stiles had stopped believing in coincidence a long time ago.

Scott stepped between them.

"Whoa, Stiles, chill." The girl winced as if she'd been struck and toed her boot into the hardwood floor.

"You forgot this at the guidance office, and I wanted to return it," she murmured and extended her palm. She uncurled her fingers to reveal Stiles' driver's license. Stiles stared at it blankly. He completely spaced. He'd been in such a rush to leave the office that he forgot the agent still had his driver's license.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, Stiles uncoiled like a snake and darted forward, depositing the sandwich spoils across the table. He snatched the driver's license from the girl's hands and held it up to the light. No tracers that he could see, nothing tampered with. Stiles lowered his palm and stared at the girl. She continued to stare down at her boots, folding her arms behind her back.

"Well, I should be going," she said and turned to leave. Stiles merely stared as she left the room, practically skipping through the front door. He turned to find everyone staring at him – especially Scott, the disappointment practically radiating from him in waves.

"Dude," Scott said under his breath and pointed towards the door. Stiles snapped out of his stupor with a loud breath and ran forward. Even if he didn't trust the girl, she _had_ brought him back his driver's license. It would have cost him a pretty penny he didn't have to replace it.

"Hey!" Stiles skidded through the front door and stopped. The girl was walking towards a shiny black sedan idling by the curb. Stiles momentarily stopped short. _She has a_ driver? Shaking his head, Stiles hopped down the steps two at a time. "Wait. _Wait._ " The girl paused on the sidewalk and turned, one finger tangled in her curls.

She blinked at the sight of him.

"What?" she asked in confusion. He came up level with her and found himself surprised, _again_ , by how tiny she was. Small boned. Slim limbs. Stiles fancied he could blow her away like dandelion fuzz.

"I uh, you know, wanted to say thank you for returning my driver's license," Stiles said and hoisted the I. evidence. "I didn't mean to be rude, you just…you caught me by surprise. You know, calling me by name, showing up at my best friend's house out of nowhere..." Too late, Stiles realized how much those words sounded like an accusation. The girl merely smiled, and it transformed her entire face. The sun came to life behind her eyes, brightening the planes of her sharp features.

"You're welcome." Stiles sucked in a breath. He held the girl's eyes, and she stared right back, the second between them extending into dangerous territory. Longer than acquaintances had any right to share. Longer even than strangers. Something shifted, and the girl's smile began to fall.

Stiles stepped back and cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair.

"I'll see you at school?" he asked uncertainly, and she nodded.

"See you then." She turned to leave. It wasn't until she reached the sedan and opened the back door that Stiles realized one more thing.

" _Hey._ " She paused, the door opened, and turned back to him. "What's your name?" She smiled again, the dazzling smile from before, not the hesitant smile of a few seconds ago.

"Call me Ellie."

When Stiles returned inside, he found Lydia sitting at the kitchen table, head held in her hands. Stiles pocketed his driver's license and ran to her side, kneeling on the floorboards.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Scott and Kira hovered over her, but Scott shook his head.

"I don't know, she just kind of… _collapsed_ when that girl left." Lydia's hand snaked out suddenly, gripping Scott's wrist hard enough that he jolted in surprise.

"It's her," Lydia gasped. "It's her." Stiles' stomach twisted into an anxious knot.

" _What's_ her?" Lydia lifted her head, her perfect green eyes round with fear.

"Whoever's going to die, it will be around _her._ "


	3. Chapter 3: The Unseelie Court

Chapter 3

"You should talk to her, man." Stiles crumpled the brown paper bag from his lunch and busied himself with tossing it into a nearby trash. The pack was seated outside for lunch, enjoying the last traces of winter in the balmy sunshine. "Stiles?" Scott prompted. Eyes narrowing, Stiles made the shot – missed; the brown bag bounced off the trash can rim and plopped to the dead grass – and turned.

"No," he said bluntly. "Absolutely not." Stiles crossed his arm over his face as if to ward off evil, flinging his hands high for emphasis. Four sets of eyes stared at him – Lydia, Malia, Kira, and Liam.

"Why not?" Scott asked and leaned intently over the plastic table. "If someone around her is going to die-"

"Then don't you think it's a smart move to stay as far away from her as humanly possibly?" Stiles interrupted with a squint. "Did you ever stop to consider that _we_ could be those dead people?" The others paused. Clearly, this thought hadn't crossed their minds. Well, except for Lydia.

"I don't think it's us," she said slowly. She nibbled on her lower lip and gazed off into the distance. For a split second, Stiles wondered what she was listening to, what she could hear that none of them could. "I don't know why, but…I just don't think it's us."

"No offense Lydia but _think_ and _know_ are two very different things," Stiles said with a cutting gesture to halt the conversation. "She's dangerous, she's off limits, end of story."

"Who's off limits?" Stiles whirled so quickly he nearly tumbled off the bench. Before he did, he saw Lydia's eyes widen into perfect circles. None other than Ellie, the very focus of their conversation, stood behind him. On that day, she wore black leggings under a flowery top with the same heeled brown boots and the green leaf necklace. A small backpack crowded against her back, and she held a textbook in her arms.

"Uhhh," Stiles fumbled, staring into her hazel eyes and losing his train of thought. "Nothing." Ellie's lips quirked.

" _Nothing_ is off limits?" she repeated impishly. Scott blurted out a laugh but quickly smothered it with one hand, glancing awkwardly at Stiles.

"No, no, of course not," Stiles interjected with a wave of his hand. "I mean, of _course_ certain things are off limits, just…not…this. Wait, no, this is one…of…those…things." Ellie's smile slipped, and she stared at him with a blank sort of curiosity that he just _knew_ the others shared. If they weren't outright snickering.

"You lost me," she said slowly.

"That makes two of us," he muttered under his breath. Ellie surprised him by laughing. It was a surprisingly light, airy sound; sharp, chiming bells in a chill winter.

"You're interesting, Stiles." Stiles blinked at her, unable to form a response. "Well, I should be going. Have a nice day." She turned to leave, just like that. It baffled Stiles. Why go out of her way to walk over and…interrupt their conversation, just to leave? _What's her angle?_

"Hey, Ellie wait!" Stiles turned to Scott as he lunged from the bench and trotted awkwardly after the waifer thin girl. _Oh no. Oh, no, no, no._ Stiles stumbled to his feet after Scott, but the damage was already done. Ellie turned to face Scott, a polite smile on her pointed face.

"Have you, uh, finished studying for that AP Biology test?" Scott asked. Ellie cocked her head to the side, reminding Stiles of a hawk eyeing its prey.

"No, actually," she said lightly. "Have you?"

"No," Scott replied with obvious relief. "Do you want to study together?" Ellie paused, giving Stiles long enough to reach them. He opened his mouth to come up with some sort of stellar excuse to dis-invite her – one of his specialties – but the look on her face made him pause. Her hazel eyes swept from Scott to Stiles and to the rest of their table, an odd, calculating look on her pretty face.

Finally, her eyes swung back to Stiles and rested there, pinning him to the spot.

"Sure."

After school, Scott wandered back to his motorbike to head home. The pack had agreed to meet there to study with Ellie Thistle – she gave him her last name when he asked for her number, to coordinate a study time. Scott absently fished for his keys and stared down at the sidewalk beneath his feet, his mind elsewhere.

The pack.

Liam was staying the night at his place so that Scott could keep an eye on him, even though he told Liam it was because he wanted him nearby in the event of an emergency.

Lydia was having a hard time concentrating in school because of her supernatural hearing.

Scott practically had to forbid Malia from attacking the merest hint of a threat, her nerves were so high strung.

Kira…Scott couldn't even think about Kira for very long without his claws tearing through his nails. _What if she's next? What if they go after her, and I'm not there?_ These thoughts haunted him nearly every waking minute of the day. _No._ Scott paused at his motorbike, his fingers curling around the keys nearly hard enough to bend the metal. _No, she_ won't _be next._ At least he didn't have to worry about Stiles. So far, the only deaths were supernaturals one. It was a small, yet a heavy, relief to know his best friend wouldn't be a target.

"Mister McCall." Scott's head snapped up, straightening his shoulders. A pair of men in black suits and sunglasses – were those earpieces in their ears? – stood on either side of his motorbike. Their feet were planted shoulder width apart, their hands folded at their waists.

"Who's asking?" he replied sharply.

"Do not worry, Mister McCall, we pose no threat," the first man, with blonde hair and a thick beard, said smoothly. "We are here to help." Scott frowned.

"Help with what?"

"The supernatural threat that you face." Scott's eyes widened to the size of saucers, the helmet nearly slipping from his limp grasp.

"Wha-what did you just say?"

"We know about you, Mister McCall," the other man, with dark hair and a thin beard curling up at the edges, added. "We know about you _and_ your pack." Scott hunched his shoulders defensively, anger pulsing through his veins.

"Is that a threat?" he asked in a low growl. The blonde haired man raised his hands innocently.

"No, Mister McCall, not a threat. As we said, we're here to help." Scott studied the men before him. Neither one moved – aside from the raised hands – and watched him with an inhuman stillness, as if not even the passing winter breeze could touch them. _Supernatural?_ Scott inhaled deeply, catching their scent. Spring flowers. Orchards. No…crushed flowers. Rotten fruit.

It reminded him of Ellie Thistle, except…different. Two sides of the same coin.

"How are you going to help?" he asked finally, cautiously.

"We are here to give you information," the blonde haired man explained calmly. Scott's brows lowered doubtfully. "It appears you and your pack have caused quite a stir in Beacon Hills, Mister McCall. As you already know, it has drawn all manner of supernatural beasts to your county."

"Werewolves," the dark haired man added. "Werecoyotes. Banshees. Assassins."

"And now," the blonde haired man continued, "you face a new threat. We know about the three bodies." It took every ounce of will power for Scott not to whip out his claws and lunge for the men.

" _How_?"

"Because," the dark haired man told him calmly, his head angling ever so slightly towards Scott's clenched fists, "we want to stop them."

"Them? _Who?_ " Scott demanded.

"The Seelie Court," the dark haired man said. The unfamiliar words caught Scott short. He thought he knew every supernatural creature there was in Beacon Hills, but apparently he was wrong. Dead wrong.

"What is that?" Scott asked with the same hesitation.

"A royal faerie court," the blonde haired man finished for him, "who intend to enslave humankind."

"They see humans as pets," the dark haired man added. "They see themselves as _better_ than them, and want to enslave them, rule them, turn them into household accessories."

"But…why now?" Scott asked, his head spinning. _Faeries? Did they say_ faeries? Even Scott had a hard time wrapping his head around that. For some reason, people who turned into werewolves or werecoyotes on the night of a full moon made more sense than tiny people with wings and fairy dust.

 _And how do I even know I can trust them?_ That was Stiles' voice in his head, the voice of reason when he wanted to jump straight to instinct.

"It may not appear this way to you, Mister McCall," the blonde haired man began, "but you have weeded out much of the, shall we say, unfavorable members of the supernatural community, from Beacon Hills."

"It makes it easier," said the dark haired man, "for the Seelie Court to take over. Without much of a threat, they can move in on the surviving members." _Surviving members._ Scott's thoughts instantly latched onto his pack.

"Why?" he nearly roared.

"To join them," the blonde haired man replied simply. It took a while for Scott to reason through this, his mind working through molasses. _Join them. To enslave the human race. To take away any possibility of help from the supernatural._

"And…if they don't join them?" Scott persisted, afraid he already knew the answer.

"If they don't join them," the dark haired man said evenly, "then they become another unexplained body." The breath caught in Scott's throat. _The_ faeries – he still had a hard time accepting that term – _are behind this? If the supernatural don't join them, they die?_ It was almost crazy enough to believe.

"We want to stop them, just like you," the blonde haired man said. "We want to help, if we can."

"How?" Scott demanded hoarsely. _Faeries. Faeries! How the hell do we fight something we don't know?_ It was actually quite simple. They had to face it, the way they faced every other supernatural threat to Beacon Hills. When the werewolves first arrived, Scott had no idea what to do, or how to react, but he had managed to survive with the strength of his pack. When every threat surfaced, he found a way to protect everyone, _with_ his pack.

They would just have to do it again.

"You have already met a member of the Seelie Court." Scott stared at the dark-haired man.

" _Who_?"

"Elaine Thistle," the blonde haired man told him. The man reached up to adjust his sunglasses, making the reflective dark lenses briefly blind Scott. "We are told she goes by Ellie." Scott's heart thudded an erratic beat in his chest. _Ellie._ The girl Lydia predicted would be surrounded by death. _She_ was a member of the Seelie Court? _She_ wanted to help enslave humanity, and kill the supernatural if they weren't willing to join her?

"We spoke with your friend, Mister Stilinski, yesterday," the dark haired man surprised him by saying. "We tried to warn him about Miss Thistle, but he wouldn't listen."  
"Y-you did?" The men shared a glance.

"Mister Stilinski did not tell you?" the blonde haired man asked with mild confusion. Scott shook his head. The man's brows furrowed. "Then it may be worse than we feared. If Mister Stilinski did not warn you, as we tried to warn him, he may already be under her control." Scott's eyes widened.

"What do you mean, under her control?"

"Have you heard of a faerie glamour?" the dark haired man asked stoically. Once again, Scott shook his head. He ground his teeth in frustration at his own ignorance. "It allows faeries to trick the human eye, the human senses. It's far easier to… _persuade_ humans than it is to persuade the supernatural. It takes far, far more power to glamour a banshee, or, say, a werewolf." Scott's pulse began to raise, a vein throbbing in his neck. _Stiles._ It was true that Ellie had showed undivided interest in Stiles. At first, Scott had merely mistook it for a harmless crush. But now…Scott understood Stiles' hesitation, his caution. Had Stiles been able to sense something, even despite Ellie's _glamour,_ if that's really what it was?

"How do you know for sure?" Scott rasped. "How do _I_ know I can trust you?"

"We can prove it," the blonde haired man said simply.

"How?"

"Iron," the dark haired man told him, and reached into the inner pocket of his lapel. "Faeries are weakened by iron. If they even touch it – " the man pulled a bracelet from the pocket, the links shining iron "—they will be burned." The man extended it to Scott, who accepted it slowly.

"It has come to our attention that you plan to seclude yourself with Miss Thistle," the blonde haired man added. "When you do, offer her this bracelet, and you will know." Scott fiddled with the bracelet, a part of him recoiling from the idea. _Burning a girl? I can't do that._ Except…what if she was more than a girl? What if she was a veritable threat?

What if she was trying to enslave Stiles with her glamour?

"If this is true, if she is part of the Seelie Court," Scott said slowly, "then what do you plan to do?" The men shared yet another glance.

"We will be watching," the dark haired man said coolly. "If the iron burns her, we will send someone in to…take care of her." Alarm spiked through Scott.

"Take _care_ of her? What do you mean by that?" Even if Ellie was a faerie, even if she was a member of the Seelie Court, Scott couldn't condone _anybody_ ' _s_ murder.

"Fear not, Mister McCall. We are not beasts like the Seelie Court. We will detain her, find whoever she is working with, and detain them as well."

"You can trust us, Mister McCall," the blonde haired man added. "We are the good guys. We are here to help."


	4. Chapter 4: Iron

Chapter 4

That afternoon, Scott sat on the edge of his bed and glanced anxiously at his phone. Malia sat on his computer chair and spun idly, while Lydia stood in one corner with Stiles, her arms wrapped nervously around her waist. Liam sat on the bed next to Scott, his forearms resting on his knees while he surveyed the room somberly.

No one spoke.

Scott had already told them what he'd learned about the Seelie Court, and they had verified the information with the copy of the Beastiary that Lydia still had. It had been a bittersweet moment to use the Beastiary; a painful reminder that Allison was gone, a pleasant reminder that she had once lived.

Worse than that, the Beastiary had shared far more about the faeries than those two men had. Tales of creatures with different colored skin and pointed teeth breaking into people's homes, stealing their children, and replacing them with trolls and goblins called _changeling's_. Stiles' joke that maybe _he_ was a changeling had fallen flat. And those were the tame stories. The other stories told of faeries luring humans into the forest only to play horrid pranks on them that usually ended in their deaths.

The faeries sounded just as mischievous as the kitsune, but twice as deadly.

Scott's phone buzzed and he jumped, punching his code into the screen to unlock it. A text stared up at him.

 **Ellie Thistle: I'm here.**

Scott lifted his head slowly. All eyes were on him.

"She's here." Stiles, who had been standing with one arm across his stomach, the other clenched into a fist at his mouth, unfurled like a lanky cat and clapped his hands together.

"Alright, people, let's do this. The first one to strap that iron bracelet around her wrist wins."

"Are we sure we want to do this?" Lydia whispered with a meaningful glance at the door. "If she is a faerie, and we offend her…" Silence answered the implications of her statement. Scott shared a look with Stiles. As always, his best friend looked unruffled – in an anxious, twitchy kind of way – and his brown eyes were focused and determined. A great weight pressed down on Scott's chest, momentarily making it difficult to breathe. He knew Stiles looked at him that way because his best friend trusted Scott to get the pack through this.

Scott could not fail them, especially Stiles. Scott hadn't told him that he might already be under Ellie's faerie glamour, or who the men in black were. He'd wanted to, but in the end Scott had been afraid it would trigger some kind of faerie trap around Stiles' mind. First, Scott needed to figure out if Ellie really was a faerie. If she was, _then_ he could figure out a way to free Stiles from her glamour.

"We have to know," was all Scott said. Apparently, it was all that needed to be said. Nodding, the pack rose to their feet and strode from the room. Scott caught Stiles' arm before he left, pulling him to a stop.

"Hey, man, everything alright?" Stiles asked, turning to face him.

"Uh, yeah," Scott began hesitantly. _Be careful, Scott. Tact. Use tact._ "Did anyone…different…talk to you yesterday?" Stiles' eyes narrowed, understanding and recognition coating his features with suspicion. _Of course Stiles would catch on._ Stiles was too sharp to be tricked into revealing information. Scott held his breath. He would just need to ask him outright.

"Why?" Stiles asked slowly.

"The information I learned today…two men in suits told me about it. One had blonde hair and a beard, the other had-"

"Black hair and a ridiculous mustache," Stiles interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper. Stiles' eyes searched his, and Scott saw the same lost feeling he knew shone in his own. "What does that mean? Can we trust them?"

"I don't know," Scott whispered and released his best friend's arm. "But I…we need to know for sure." Sticking a hand in his pocket, Scott curled his fingers around the iron bracelet lying there. "We _have_ to figure out the truth." Stiles rubbed his chin and looked away, mulling over the words, before he looked at Scott again.

"Okay, then, that's what we'll do." Forcing himself to smile, Scott clapped Stiles on the shoulder and left the room.

Scott opened the front door to admit Ellie Thistle into his house. She stood on the front porch with a backpack hanging from one shoulder, and a bicycle helmet draped from her slim fingers. Behind her, Scott spotted a pink beach cruiser propped on the porch.

"Hi," Ellie said brightly and ran a hand through her bangs, messy from the bike ride. Fleetingly, it occurred to Scott that Ellie was very small and slim limbed to be a fearsome faerie. She barely reached his chest. "Do you think my bike will be safe there, or should I bring it to the backyard?" Scott shook his head, mouth open without producing any sounds. _Is that bike iron? Can she ride it? Are bikes_ made _out of iron?_ Confusion robbed him of speech.

"This neighborhood is safe, if you don't mind the occasional bum or mugger," Stiles stepped in to save him. "You should be fine."

"I doubt anyone would mess with this house in particular," Liam added more quietly from the back of the group. Lydia whirled to him and swatted his arm in warning, but he merely flinched and frowned. "What? It's true."

"Well," Ellie said calmly and patted her curls into place. "That's good to hear. So." She paused and cradled the helmet against her stomach, her hazel eyes roaming over each of them in turn. Scott's scalp prickled. _Is she using her glamour on us? How can we tell? Damnit._ "Where do you want to study?"

"Bedroom," Scott blurted at the same time Stiles said, "Kitchen." Scott turned and stared at his best friend, who held out his arms in utter exasperation. A tinkling giggle returned Scott's attention to Ellie.

"The kitchen it is," she said with a soft smile aimed at Stiles. Given her height, Ellie had a way of gazing up at him through her lashes that even Scott noticed. Scott's head whipped towards his best friend, heart pounding, looking for some type of reaction, some _response_ that said he was under a glamour, whatever that was. All Scott saw was faint color rise to Stiles' cheeks as he shifted away, ran a hand through his hair, and pointed awkwardly to the kitchen.

"Shall we?" The pack closed in around Ellie like some sort of honor guard, or prison escort, as she stepped inside. Ellie jumped and shuffled forward, her shoulders rounding in on herself and her movements becoming stiff.

No one spoke as everyone took a place around the table. Ellie sat at the head of the table farthest from the door. It placed the entire pack between her and the exit, if she tried to run. When Scott slid into his own seat by Kira, he couldn't help but wonder if that was not, in fact, a good idea.

"So." Ellie's voice cracked slightly. She paused to clear it and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, eyes glued to the wooden table. "Do you have…your notes?" Her eyes darted up fleetingly towards Scott before lowering once more. She looked immensely uncomfortable under the weight of their combined stares, fidgeting restlessly in her seat.

Belatedly, Scott realized that everyone had left their bags in his room.

"Uh, yeah, upstairs." Scott pointed to the roof above their heads, and Lydia sighed.

"I'll get it."

"I'll help," Kira stammered and loped after Lydia from the room. Which left Ellie alone with Stiles, Scott, and Liam, all wrapped up in such tense silence Scott choked on it. Scott listened to the sound of the clock chiming. He listened to the sound of Stiles' rapid heartbeat, to Liam's ragged breathing, and to Ellie.

Strangely, he couldn't _hear_ anything from Ellie. He saw the pulse fluttering in her neck, noticed the way her fingers toyed with the glass leaf necklace, saw her eyes flitting nervously about the room, but he couldn't _hear_ anything. It was like she was in a little pocket of emptiness, a void he couldn't reach.

"Um…do you like Biology?" Ellie asked nervously, the leaf pendant twirling in her palm. Scott narrowed in on the movement, calculating. _Is that how she glamours people?_ Her shoulders tensed as if she could feel his scrutiny.

"Does who like Biology?" Stiles asked in his typical impish way.

"Everyone," Ellie replied, her tone lightening.

"Well, to answer that, I'd have to ask every person on earth, so it looks like you'll have to keep wondering," Stiles replied dryly. Normally, people might have stopped and stared at Stiles quizzically, trying to understand if he was being serious or not. But Ellie laughed. Low and soft, a strangely intimate sound that ran cold fingers down Scott's spine. Stiles stiffened in his own chair, his fingers drumming a nervous beat on the table.

"Then what about just _you_?" Ellie glanced up through her lashes again at Stiles when she asked, a faint, hesitant smile on her lips. Stiles' met her stare, and he stopped, almost freezing in place, his adam's apple bobbing and his lips parted wordlessly. Fear coiled in Scott's stomach.

"I like Biology," Scott blurted, interrupting the moment. Ellie glanced at him in surprise with a blink, and Stiles stared down at his fingers on the table as if collecting himself. "I want to be a veterinarian. Like my boss. I work at an animal clinic." _Shut. Up._ Scott clamped his lips shut before he revealed anything else and watched Ellie cautiously. Her face brightened.

"You do? My parents own a farm. Well, my dad does," she corrected with a soft smile. "My mom's a CEO. I love the farm though. We have a ton of different animals, but horses are my favorite. Is your boss a small animal vet or a big animal vet?"

"Uhhh…" Scott glanced sidelong at Stiles, who shrugged his shoulders. "Both, I guess." Liam coughed on a laugh and quickly ran a hand over his mouth to hide the sound. Ellie's eyes twinkled.

"I see." She smiled, revealing big white teeth in a way that made Scott think she actually _did_ understand. It set Scott on edge. Fortunately, Kira and Lydia flounced back down the stairs at that moment, sparing them from further conversation.

"Here you go," Lydia said and handed Scott his textbook and spiral notebook. Scott reached for it absently, but Lydia paused, hand hovering a few inches from his. Scott met her penetrating stare with wide eyes. Lydia's eyes darted down to his pocket and her eyebrows arched expectantly. Scott's lips parted. _Oh._

Fumbling in his pocket, Scott pulled out the bracelet and kept it cupped and hidden in his palm as he accepted the notebook. Lydia gave an infinitesimal nod of her head before sliding into the seat next to Stiles, slapping his books unceremoniously on the table. Stiles muttered a _thank you_ and flipped open the book like he actually meant to study.

Ellie watched them curiously through hooded lashes, her fingers still against the leaf pendant.

Scott set the textbook aside and handed the notebook, with the bracelet against his fingers, towards her.

"Here," he offered, trying to keep his voice even. "Why don't you take a look so we can make sure we're all on the right page?" Ellie gave him a strange look but reached forward to take the notebook. Everyone around the table tensed, waiting for their fingers to connect.

Ellie grabbed the notebook and the bracelet in Scott's fingers. She jumped, and every muscle in Scott's body clenched, preparing to stand his ground or retreat, attack or defend. With a blink, Ellie set the notebook on the table and lifted the bracelet, splaying her hand.

Scott stared at her pale, tiny palm in confusion. The iron bracelet lay there like a small, coiled snake, but her palm looked perfectly fine, except for a soft pink flush. His eyes burned with the force of his stare and he rubbed them absently.

"Is this yours?" she asked inquisitively.

"Uh, yeah," Scott blundered and grabbed it from her hand. Ellie kept her palm hovering in the air, watching him blankly. "How did that get there?" Scott laughed hoarsely, and Stiles cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sorry about that, uh…" Trailing off, Scott stuffed the bracelet into his pocket and glanced around the table. Kira was looking at Ellie with something like sympathy, Lydia was staring at Scott with wide eyes, Liam looked like he wanted to laugh, and Stiles was watching Ellie with narrow eyes like she might transform into a bug at any minute.

Everyone jumped when Ellie rose suddenly to her feet, her chair scraping back against the wood.

"Actually, I'm not feeling very well," she murmured and gathered her things without looking at anyone. "Maybe we can put this off for another day?" Before anyone could respond, Ellie grabbed her bike helmet from the back of her chair and rushed around the table. Scott rose without thinking and blocked her path, making her stumble back a step. Liam rose with him and stepped around to his side, the loyal beta with arms folded across his chest. Ellie retreated another step.

"Ellie-" Scott began. Ellie gazed up at him with wide, fear-filled eyes, and Scott choked on his next words.

"Scott, you're scaring me," she whispered. "You're all scaring me." Across the table, Stiles rose to his feet as well, both palms planted on the wood. Lydia's lips were working silently, and Kira plucked at the folds of her pleated skirt. Scott could only stare in stunned silence as Ellie edged around him and practically ran for the door.

"Ellie, wait!" Somehow Stiles managed to intercept her and reach for her hand, the one not gripping the helmet. With a yelp, Ellie recoiled from Stiles hard enough that her book bag and helmet went flying, clattering loudly to the floor. Stiles stumbled to a halt, hands lifted innocently, and Lydia clapped her hands around her ears.

Ellie stood cowering in the foyer like a wounded animal, watching them with bright eyes and cradling her hand to her chest.

The same hand that had touched the bracelet.

Scott's eyes widened. At the time, he hadn't seen anything, but now…now, he could see a faint red welt upon her skin, in the firm of a coil. _It's a brand from the bracelet._ Noticing his stare, Ellie glanced down at her hand, and when she lifted her head, there was anger in her eyes. Her lips thinned in displeasure.

"What did you-" A crash like thunder broke over the house, making the floorboards and ceiling shake with the force of the boom. Scott lost his balance and flailed, watching as Liam grabbed onto one of the walls to catch himself and Stiles almost fell into Ellie, who braced him with her tiny body. Lydia screamed and clutched the edges of the table, and Kira tried rising only to fall back into her seat.

The glass over Scott's front door shattered, falling against the floor like drops of rain. In the next second, the door itself flew forward and crashed against the doors, broken clear off its hinges.

And there, standing in Scott's doorway, was a huge, stumpy _thing_ with wrinkled green skin and an under bite like a bulldog. Pointed ears twitched on either side of its fat head, and beady black eyes scoured the room. The thing paused when those eyes landed on Ellie.

The only thing Scott could think was that it looked like a troll.


	5. Chapter 5: The Troll

Chapter 5

Eyes narrowing, Ellie steadied Stiles and pushed him away from her. He flailed back and hit one of the walls hard, eyes wide. Growling, Scott stepped forward, feeling the change begin to show through his skin, when the troll rushed by him so fast it was nothing more than a blur. One minute it was standing in the doorway, the next it was standing at the kitchen, lifting Ellie into the air by her throat.

"Holy sh-" Stiles fumbled backwards until he hit the kitchen counter, propping himself up with his hands. Lydia lurched up as well, knocking her chair backwards, and went to join him. Finally catching her footing, Kira whirled and unbuckled her sword from around her waist, snapping it open with a growl.

 _What?_ Scott stared at the troll and Ellie, unable to move, unable to think. _The men said they would detain her._ He waited tensely, unsure what to expect. In the interim, as time seemed to slow, Scott looked to Ellie.

The floor seemed to drop out from underneath him.

The air around the small girl shimmered like drops of water, transforming her features. Previously, Ellie had been fair skinned. Now, her skin shimmered a pale jade, like the fresh color of spring. Previously, Ellie had normal ears hidden by folds of hair. Now, sharp points protruded from her chestnut curls. Previously, Ellie had wide, doe-like eyes. Now, Ellie had the same wide eyes and thick lashes, but they gleamed bright and feral. Previously, she had smiled normally. Now, when her lips curled back, they revealed sharp, pointed little teeth. Previously, she had been slender. Now, her limbs seemed longer, surreal in their shape and length.

Ellie was a faerie. The iron had confirmed it, but to see it with his own eyes...

Ellie muttered something under her breath, something Scott couldn't hear, and to his shock, the troll responded. It didn't speak human words. Instead, it sounded like rocks grating together, or an avalanche. Either way, Ellie somehow understood. She clucked her tongue in annoyance, her predatory eyes skimming over the room to fall and rest on Stiles. Claws punched out from Scott's hands, and he felt his features shifting into those of a werewolf.

"Stop!" Scott had no idea what he was trying to stop, only that he didn't like the way Ellie was looking at Stiles. Scott had watched his best friend suffer one too many times for his liking. If Ellie had put him under a glamour, Scott would do everything in his power to free Stiles. Lunging forward, he raised his claws and bared his teeth in a threat. Ellie's eyes snapped towards him in alarm. The troll released a shrill bellow like a bull and swung a huge fist at him.

Scott prepared to duck out of the way, but at the last second the troll froze. Its meaty fist trembled in midair like it struggled to move, muscles bulging. Still clutched by the throat in its other fist, Ellie had lifted no more than a long, slim green finger, and crooked it like a hook. Her glowing hazel eyes were focused on the troll with almost painful intensity, her expression fierce.

"Stay here," Ellie murmured quietly. Scott stared at her in shock. Ellie lifted her free hand and flicked the troll in the forehead. That was it. Just a flick of her fingers, like a scolding parent. And it sent the huge creature rocketing from the room and out through the front door, taking Ellie right along with it. Scott gaped at the empty air, but Stiles barreled past him and lunged through the front door.

"Stiles, wait!" Scott ran after him, trotting down the steps. The troll lay in a huge, wrinkly puddle nearly fifteen feet down the road. A smaller form with thin green limbs lay a shorter distance away on the asphalt, and struggled to rise.

Without hesitation, Stiles started in Ellie's direction. Scott grabbed his elbow, swinging him to a halt.

"Stiles, stop!" Scott shouted. His best friend turned to him with wide eyes, but he looked more angry than confused. "You said so yourself, we don't know if we can trust her."

"She was _protecting_ us, Scott," Stiles shouted back and grabbed his wrist. "If she wanted to kill us, wouldn't that have been the perfect opportunity, huh?" Scott stared at Stiles speechlessly. Scott had had the same momentary doubts, but hearing them reflected by his best friend made them more real. "Don't you get it? Those men _tricked_ us. I knew I shouldn't have trusted them." Scott blinked.

"But they were right, she's a faerie-" The troll released a shrill shriek. Scott whirled, one hand still gripping Stiles. The troll writhed on the ground as if some invisible force were torturing it from the inside out, its body heaving and its limbs flailing. Ellie rose to her feet and swayed, stumbling a step before she caught her balance. She had one hand thrust out towards it, fingers arched like claws.

Then, translucent purple wings sprouted from Ellie's back, glimmering like crystal and shedding pale puffs that could have been mist or could have been dust. The butterfly like wings splayed wide from her back and lifted her a foot off the ground. The troll rose with it. In the next instant, both Ellie and the troll vanished in a blinding flash of light, leaving the neighborhood silent and empty.

When Scott released Stiles and turned, the broken door had been repaired as well like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

 _Stupid._ Stiles berated himself endlessly throughout the night of the troll attack and the following morning. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ He remembered Ellie being there before the agents had spoken to him in the guidance counselor's office, and he remembered her strange warning, that if he didn't like what the men said he didn't have to answer. When Scott spilled the news about those men and their true purpose in seeking him out – to help them defeat the Unseelie Court, which included Ellie – Stiles had been suspicious, but it made sense in a way. What if Ellie's words had been some sort of charm to keep him from talking? What if those men had been trying to help, and Ellie had been trying to keep him trapped?

It wasn't until after the troll appeared, and Ellie practically threw him to safety, that Stiles remembered one crucial detail.

When it became clear the agents would not get answers out of Stiles in the guidance counselor's office, the men had said one thing: Seelie _._ Not _Unseelie,_ but _Seelie_. After Ellie and the troll vanished, Stiles searched for the Seelie Court in the Beastiary, and what he found made him numb. The Seelie Court was as different from the Unseelie Court as night and day. The Unseelie Court hated humans, wanted to enslave them. The Seelie Court respected humans, and wanted to coexist with them peacefully.

With the iron, the pack had indeed determined that Ellie was a faerie. With Stiles' forgotten memory, they had now determined that Ellie may not in fact be Unseelie, but was most likely a faerie from the Seelie Court. And, to add regret to guilt, they may have just antagonized their only ally in the current mess of the royal faerie courts.

The other fact that nagged Stiles was this: if those two agents _knew_ about Scott and the pack - which was obvious by the way they approached Scott so openly - then what information had they been trying to blackmail out of _him?_ What more could they possibly need to know?

These were the thoughts that swirled through Stiles' head and kept him up for most of the night. These were the thoughts that fueled him as he drove to school in his blue jeep the next day, parked, and instantly searched for Ellie. She was everywhere he looked. He caught brief glimpses of her at her locker, which happened to be across the hall from his. When he whirled, she was gone. He saw a flicker of her out of the corner of his eye in their classes, out of which they shared four. When the bell rang, he turned, only to see her slip out the door. He saw the briefest look of her chestnut hair vanishing around a corner between classes. When he ran down the hall, she vanished in the sea of bodies.

Ellie was everywhere and nowhere. Close enough to touch yet always out of reach.

In the most ironic way, Ellie had been right on that first day outside the counselor's office; she had always been there, and he just hadn't realized it.

 _Stupid._

At lunch, Stiles paced next to the outside table where the rest of the pack sat. He placed one hand and on his hip and cracked his knuckles with the other, thoughts whirling.

"So here's a question," he muttered into the silence. "If Lydia sensed death around Ellie, was that the death of the troll?"

"We don't know for sure that it's dead," Liam offered helpfully but Lydia shook her head.

"No," she breathed. "I'm almost positive that it's dead." Scott stared down at his palms somberly. Stiles paused and studied his best friend. He knew Scott blamed himself for the events that happened – the troll, Ellie – but Stiles wished he didn't. How many times had they been tricked by one or another supernatural creature? How many times had they been tricked by _humans_ no less? Scott was always shouldering the responsibility for everyone, and Stiles wished, like always, that his best friend would let him help lighten the load. It's like Scott constantly had to be reminded that his pack was there to support him, rather than just be protected all the time.

"Do we know for _sure_ she's Seelie, and not Unseelie?" Kira asked uncertainly, but guilt stretched her features taut. Last night, after the incident, Kira finally confessed her reluctance to implicate Ellie. _"What if she's like me?"_ Kira had said. _"What if she's just new, and trying to figure everything out, and we just threw her to the wolves?"_ Stiles had found the pun hilarious, but no one else had shared that sentiment.

"No," Scott admitted tensely. "But she didn't kill us, so there's that." More silence.

"What are we going to do now?" Liam asked, voicing the question none of them wanted to face. Lydia massaged her temples. Kira reached out and laced her fingers with Scott, who smiled at her with wan reassurance. Stiles paused and planted his hands on his hips, gazing off into the distance.

"Isn't that the question of the century," said Stiles. Police sirens blared deafeningly loud. Stiles winced, and Scott was on his feet in an instant, eyes wide.

"Stiles," he ground out, "it's your dad." Stiles took off towards the parking lot, leaving his backpack and books on the table. He heard Scott, Liam, and Kira running after him, and assumed Lydia had stayed behind to collect their things.

When they reached the asphalt, three squad cars pulled up, their lights spilling red and blue across the parking lot.

"Dad!" Sheriff Stilinski opened the front door of his cruiser and stepped out, his expression grim.

"Not now, Stiles." Sheriff Stilinski tried to brush past his son, but Stiles stepped in his way.

"What happened?" Stiles asked firmly. Sheriff Stilinski sighed, took one look at his son's set jaw and keen eyes, and visibly relented.

"There's been another murder," he explained. For a split second, fear gripped Stiles' chest with unrelenting claws, until he realized he'd seen Ellie that day which meant it _couldn't_ be her. Scott stepped up to Stiles' side.

"Who?" Scott breathed, arms rigid.

"Ryan Healey," Sheriff Stilinski grumbled and ran a hand across the back of his neck. "A junior here at Beacon Hills High. The body was found early this morning in the woods outside of Hillcrest Farms." _Farms._ Stiles' mind snatched the piece of information, shook it free, and fit into the ever-growing puzzle of the murders. _Ellie said her father owned a farm. Was she involved in this?_ Lydia had predicted the death would occur around Ellie…maybe it meant in the literal vicinity of her home. Or was Ellie directly involved in the death? The thought turned Stiles cold.

"I doubt this is going to do any good," Sheriff Stilinski grumbled, "but there's a mandatory curfew. I expect you at home by six p.m. sharp, do you hear me Stiles?" Stiles nodded absently and grabbed Scott's arm, pulling him away as the deputes strode past.

"Do you have your phone on you?" Stiles murmured. He'd forgotten his at the table with his backpack. Frowning, Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Liam wandered closer with a curious frown. "Look up Hillcrest Farms."

"Why?" Liam asked in confusion.

"I have a hankering for milk," Stiles said dryly. He glowered at Liam when the boy's eyes widened. "I want to see who owns it, idiot," Stiles muttered impatiently and waved a hand to shoo off the beta. Liam snorted and remained exactly where he stood. Understanding brightened Kira's face.

"Ellie said her dad owned a farm," she breathed, and Stiles nodded vigorously. After a few seconds of concentration and clicking keys, Scott pulled up the website search on his phone.

"Hillcrest Farms is owned and operated by Ethan Thistle," Scott read aloud, his eyebrows arching towards his hairline. Stiles snapped his fingers and clapped his hands together, the tension beneath his skin easing.

"Then that's where we're headed next."


End file.
